


For you, the heavens weep

by Hydron



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, But at the price of making it angst, God really said I could have some motivation for once to write about my rarepair, I cried while writing this you know, I'm sorry to the two other people that ship this, It's a terrible day for rain, M/M, No Beta We Cry Like Men, slightly ooc?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydron/pseuds/Hydron
Summary: A moment without focus on the battlefield can end up costing everything.
Relationships: Flannel | Keaton/Joker | Jakob
Kudos: 7





	For you, the heavens weep

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know what to title this
> 
> Man, I got really inspired for some reason and wrote this to take a break from writing my essay for class, but now it slapped me back in the face because I'm going to go to bed and wake up and be sad for the rest of the day LOL
> 
> It's 7:30 am, I've been up all night working and writing this, lord help me

It happens in an instant.

The army on the battlefield, a heavy rain pelting down on them, in some place that Jakob can’t even keep track of anymore. They’ve been traveling so long and they should have found an area to go back to that weird other realm to rest a spell, but they got greedy, traveled a little bit further, and ended up getting ambushed by a large group of invisible soldiers. There shouldn’t have been any here, realistically, but nothing is ever realistic in the face of this enemy they’ve found themselves pitted against, and Jakob feels this particular encounter as a punishment for going a little too far without a proper rest.

Despite all best efforts, Jakob’s running on half his usual vigor. For as much as he loves the thrum of battle in his veins, throwing his daggers with a deadly precision with an almost scary amount of enjoyment, there’s no denying the exhaustion that laces his every movement, the water soaking into the fabrics of his clothes certainly not helping any. He’s slower to act and slower to react, and it’s only because Keaton watches his back that he’s able to make it out of every scuffle almost entirely unscathed. The rest of the army doesn’t appear to be faring any better, all of their actions sluggish in nature and faces weary, but they’re getting the job done and it’ll only be a matter of time before the battle is won and they can take the rest they all deserve. It’s with this thought that Jakob lets his focus scatter, if only for a single moment.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t see the bright flash of pink flame coming at him from the corner of his eye, sweeping purple smoke creating an outline of an axe poised to strike.

“Jakob!”

In a sudden movement, Keaton, transformed into a wolfskin, barrels on all fours into the aim of the axe and throws Jakob aside with his head hitting Jakob’s abdomen. Jakob falls to the ground with a tremendous force that knocks the wind out of his lungs, dazing him and bringing him back into reality all at once. As the white in his vision fades, he hears a great monstrous cry of pain, and the sound of claws on metal before the thump of a body hitting the ground, followed closely behind by a second, larger one.

By the time Jakob can manage to get himself to recover and sit up, Keaton has already transformed back, with a huge gash undoubtedly created by an axe on his side that flows with blood at an alarming rate. There’s a puddle forming beneath him and Jakob is seized with a fear that this is nothing like any of the wounds Keaton has gotten before, watching in horror as scarlet pools more and more.

“Keaton!”

Jakob forces himself up on shaky legs still trying to recuperate from the fall, and feels like a newborn deer the way he wobbles over to where Keaton lay bleeding in the mud. Looking around quickly to make sure there are no enemies nearby, he feels a small twinge of relief to see that the battle is nearly won, though immediately forgotten as soon as he brings his attention back to his husband on the ground. He pulls the heal staff he keeps attached to on a belt at his hip out of the grip of the leather and holds his arms out straight with the red sphere at the tip close to Keaton’s wound. A green glowing appears and envelops the gash, and Jakob holds his breath as he carefully watches the blood to see if the puddle stops growing.

The green light fades, and all is still for a moment, before Jakob realizes that Keaton is still bleeding and that the healing magic did nothing.

In a panic, Jakob continues to cast. The healing light ebbs and flows, yet nothing seems to change. The heal staff isn’t working, and Jakob can hear Keaton's breaths becoming shallower, more pained. He continues to try, though, because it doesn't matter how pointless it seems, he refuses to accept that Keaton would die here like this.

Keaton, powerful Keaton, the proud wolfskin who rushes into danger and walks back from the edge of death too many times to count, stronger for it. The one who always takes hits for Jakob and attacks back with twice the frenzy, twice the fury, that someone would dare swing their weapon or cast a spell with the intent of hurting his husband. Who comes back covered in numerous wounds and smiles at him, waits patiently for Jakob to heal him, tells him that he loves him before doing it all over again. That infuriates him with his recklessness and worries him to no end and makes him feel so many emotions he once thought he didn't have.

No... Keaton can’t fall here. He wouldn't, not after everything.

After a continuous number of castings, all failed, Keaton finally opens his eyes and gives Jakob a smile, the same one he gives him when he's been hurt in battle and he wants to be reassuring. _It will be alright_ , the smile always seems to say, _everything will be alright_.

But it's _not alright_. It's not alright and Keaton is dying in front of him and he can't close the wounds, can't stop the bleeding. Why did Keaton have to take another hit for him? Why is it fatal this time? _Why isn't the heal staff working?_

With a cry of frustration and dismay, Jakob throws the staff to the ground, instead falling to his knees and moving to straddle Keaton, uncaring of the mud on his pants or the rain now digging a chill into his legs, or the blood of his husband still pooling all around him. He cradles his face with both of his hands, traces the scar on his cheek with his thumb, in a way once reserved for when they were alone back in their room at the castle, hushed whispers of sweet nothings and _I love you_ s exchanged in the delicate moments before falling asleep. He moves his head down to touch their foreheads together, to leave a lingering kiss on cool lips, because he knows that this is the last time he'll ever be able to do so. 

Keaton is weak, but he has enough strength to lift his arm to touch Jakob's cheek. The icy metal of the silver ring on his husband's finger stings, but Jakob doesn't flinch away. Instead, he leans into it, and he lifts his own hand to cover it, and he curses the fact they both have their gloves on because he wants to feel Keaton's skin on his own so much more than in any moment before. 

They look into each other’s eyes, the rest of the world falling away then as Jakob takes in the richness of the vermilion laced with honey, with a growing despair seeing the light in them beginning to fade. 

"I love you, Jakob." 

Jakob bites back the bile in his throat at that, and whispers out on the edge of a sob, "I love you too, Keaton, more than anything." 

There's a faint cough of a laugh, and Keaton begins to close his eyes, time seeming to slow as his hand slips from Jakob's own. "I'm glad it was... you..." 

Keaton's hand falls back into the mud, into a small puddle splashing up water and blood as his chest falls still, eyes closed and face serene despite everything. Jakob holds himself there for a second, losing the battle of keeping his tears from falling as they drip onto Keaton's face, mingling with the rain water. 

And for the first time, Jakob cries, throwing his head back as a horrible wail of grief rings out into the sky. 

The heavens continue to weep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry


End file.
